The Fighter (The High Rise, Book 1) Page 6
I watch in fascination as one side of his mouth draws up into a half smirk then I shiver when he moves a hand to run his fingers over my shoulder watching them as they move.
But his actions now have me all kinds of tangled and I throw out, “You keep sending me messed mixages.”
“Do I now,” he says bringing his hand up to cup the side of my jaw, his fingers pressing in at the back of my neck. “You’re fucking stunning,” he whispers, moving his face closer, our lips little more than a few centimeters apart.
I’m waiting breathlessly for him to kiss me knowing that it’ll be perfect, that it’ll be the kiss to end all kisses, but he doesn’t move and we stand there for what seems like centuries. Then I feel his fingers tense at my nape.
“Tell me,” he prompts making my eyes move to his and I watch as they go hard just like they did this morning right here in this very elevator. “Are you as fucking innocent as you try to appear to be?”
Wait. What? Not this shit again.
My brow comes down (I think) and I pull away from him as far as the wall will let me. “You keep asking me that and I don’t know what you mean.”
“It means just that.”
“You’re not, you know,” I inform him.
The non sequitur seems to take him by surprise. “I’m not what?”
“Very Noble, like your name states.”
That seems to get through to him for a moment but then he’s back to being a jerk, narrowing his eyes at me suspiciously. “I can’t tell whether you’re clueless or just a really good actress who doesn’t give a shit where the money to buy yourself tasteless little dresses comes from.”
Oh. My. God.
Oh my God!
He did not just say that! This dress might be a bit, well, show-offy, but it was expensive and is most definitely not tasteless!
While I’m still wrapping my head around what he’s just said and trying to get my wits about me (and not punch him in the throat), he keeps going. “So the innocent shit is all just an act to throw me off, right?”
Wow.
I may still be technically drunk, but I no longer feel it because my anger has the adrenaline clamoring through my veins like crazy. God. Talk about a literal buzzkill.
“You’re a prick,” I snap pushing away from the wall and ducking under his arm, rushing to push the “door open” button on the panel because I need to get the hell out of here. Naturally, I stumble in the process and of course he wraps an arm around my waist catching me before I eat steel which only serves to infuriates me even more. As I right myself I bite out through gritted teeth, “Get your hands off me!”
Thank God he complies before I have to go Solange Knowles on his ass and hallelujah that he’s pushed the button himself and the doors open. I can’t get out of there fast enough but damn it, I know he’s right on my heels.
“Laney.” It sounds like an apology but I don’t care.
Dani’s left the door open and once I get to it, I’m already on my way to slamming it closed. Except he’s followed me and is blocking me from doing so.
Shit.
I jerk the door back and order, “Get out!”
“No,” he replies. He does it calmly which pisses me off even more.
“Yes!”
He shakes his head and takes a step into me. “No.”
“Yes!”
He continues moving toward me making me walk backward and since I’m still holding the doorknob the door’s coming with me. When my back hits the wall I want to scream.
“If you don’t leave, I’m gonna use this door as a battering ram on you knocking your ass into next week,” I snap.
That causes him to come up short. Then he looks at me canting his head to the side, amusement twinkling in his eyes, and throws his head back bursting out laughing.
Despite how attractive that is, I scowl at him and mumble, “I was being serious.”
Looking down at me and still chuckling he puts his hand in the same position it was in the elevator, holding my face in his palm, his fingers at the nape of my neck and when I try moving my head, he tightens his grip and bends to look me in the eye.
“Your dress is sexier than hell and I’m sorry for what I said.” I watch the muscles in his jaws jump as he seems to contemplate what he’s going to say next. “I guess thinking of those guys dancing with you, putting their hands on you, set me off.”
“You watched me dance?” I ask, surprised.
He nods watching as he runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Guess I’ve gotta figure out if I could tolerate being with you if you are mixed up in everything.” His eyes move from my lips up to my hair then to my eyes.
“Mixed up in what?” I question still not knowing what he’s talking about.
His eyes go soft and he squeezes the back of my neck as he whispers, “Fucking beautiful.”
Damn it. He’s looking at me so tenderly and he’s being so sweet, his eyes keep going to my lips and I find I’m dying for him to kiss me. But he doesn’t. Why won’t he kiss me? Ugh.
“Goodnight, Laney.”
And then he’s gone.
I thump the back of my head against the wall and stare at the ceiling for a moment before finally closing the door and locking it. After checking on Dani and finding she’s sawing logs like none other, I go to the bathroom to remove my makeup, brush my teeth and change into shorts and a tank top.
Once in bed I check the alarm on my phone making sure it’s engaged so I’ll be sure to wake up early enough to get a call in to The Arches for Mrs. Lanning.
Just when I get comfortable and start to drift off, my eyes pop open when I remember something he said.
Guess I’ve gotta figure out if I could tolerate being with you if you are mixed up in everything.
He has to figure out if he can tolerate me? Jerk. And, again, what am I supposedly mixed up in?
“I’ll give him something to tolerate,” I mumble before falling asleep.
Eight
Last night in Laney’s apartment, it was all I could do to keep from kissing those luscious lips of hers then take her to bed.
Talk about a crisis of conscience.
On the one hand, I want to fuck her so hard I’m all she thinks about for a goddamned month.
On the other, her family is the enemy. They’re the reason my brother was hurt, the reason I’m here to bail his ass out.
I don’t know if anything good could come from getting involved with her. Being with her seems like it’d be a conflict of interest and I have to keep telling myself that no woman is worth selling out my own family for.
Yet I’ll be damned if there’s not something about her that makes me want her, even makes me fucking crave her. We’ve got mad chemistry between us that’s through the roof. And not only is she gorgeous, there’s an innocence about her that just doesn’t fit and it makes me want to protect her although I know that makes no sense. I’m starting to think she’s not involved with everything but I still believe she has to know what her family’s doing. It’s happening in the basement of this very building for fuck’s sake. She’d have to be blind not to know the corruption that’s going on around her; therefore, I’m still not completely convinced.
And that’s why I walked away.
In the meantime, back at my apartment, just as I lay down to get some sleep someone pounds their fists against my front door.
I yell, “Hang the fuck on!” because the pounding continues. I pull on a pair of jeans not bothering buttoning them because whoever this is, they’ll soon be gone. And the goddamned pounding continues as I walk to the door. Dumbass.
I look out the peephole and there stands Jessica.
“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” I mumble. I’m tempted to act like I’m not home, leaving her ass in the hallway. But then the yelling begins.
“Heath! I know you’re in there! Open the door, baby!”
When I don’t respond or open the door, she yells my name even louder. Christ.
She stumbles in and I catch her just before she wipes out.
“Whoops,” she says with a giggle looking up at me.
I walk her in enough to close the door then stand her up straight. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She puts on her pouty face before whining, “I’m in trouble.”
I now walk her all the way inside, sitting her ass on the sofa while I sit on the coffee table facing her.
Jessica’s a beautiful woman, tall, long blond hair, long legs, and any other time I wouldn’t mind her being here but right now I’m pissed. She knows this isn’t how we do things. We’re not serious and we’re not exclusive. I could’ve had another woman here and what fun that would’ve been explaining things to either of them.
“How are you in trouble?” I ask running my hands over my face. She leans forward and sloppily puts her hands on my jeans where they’re unbuttoned trying to get a handful of my dick. I reach down and stop her, shaking her hands to get her attention. “How are you in trouble?”
“I’ve done a bad thing,” she remarks flopping back against the couch.
I’m not up for playing any games tonight. I’ve already dealt with one drunk woman—one who I wouldn’t mind being here right now—and my patience is dwindling.
“What’d you do, Jessica?”
“Colin found out,” she cries dragging out the last word.
“Found out what? And who’s Colin?”
She looks like she’s about to pass out so I lean forward grabbing her by the hands making her sit forward and repeat my question. “Who’s Colin and what’d he find out?”
“Colin? Is he here? Oh my God! You need to hide!” she exclaims, jumping up and almost falling again.
I stand quickly grabbing her by the shoulders then bend down so we’re eye-to-eye. “What’s going on, Jessica?”
She takes a wobbly step forward and wraps her arms around my waist pressing her cheek against my bare chest and she’s crying. Great.
She sucks in a sobbing breath then proceeds to blow my mind. “C-C-Colin’s my fiancé and he f-f-found out I was cheating on him tonight.”
Fiancé? What the fuck.
My body tenses as I let that sink in. I didn’t know she had a fucking fiancé. If I had, I’d never have gone there with her. Jesus.
I take her shoulders again, pushing her away from me to where she has to unwrap her arms and make her sit on the couch again.
“I’m gonna get you a wet washrag. Hang on.”
She’s got mascara running down her face and it’s not pretty. She’s very conscientious about her looks and wears so much makeup that she’s clogged my drain in the bathroom a time or two after removing it when she’s stayed over, and I know she’d be mortified at having black streaks down her cheeks.
Cursing all the way to the bathroom, I come back out to find she’s passed out on the couch. I try rousing her but to no avail. So letting out a breath I bend to wipe the streaks on her face getting as much off as I can. Next I go to my bedroom and toss the rag in the hamper, coming back out, and picking her up, carry her to my bedroom where I lay her in the bed. After taking her heels off, I cover her then grab the other pillow and head out to sleep on the couch.
I lie there thinking of how fucking good Laney felt rubbing against me and whispering in my ear when she pulled her little seductress shit tonight at the club.
My last thought before I fall asleep is that I’m going to find a way to have her.
It’s Saturday morning and I’ve got my first fight tonight. I’m pretty jazzed about it too. I’ll get to take all my pent-up frustrations out on some poor asshole. I can’t wait.
I just got out of the shower and after dressing I go into the kitchen to see Jessica making breakfast. Her long bleached blond hair is in a messy bun atop her head and her skintight jeans and four-inch heels make her legs look a mile long. She’s in full makeup again—her purse is a black hole, probably weighing in at at least twenty pounds because she has everything you can imagine in there—and is wearing one of my Gold’s Gym t-shirts that she’s knotted high at the side so that her midriff shows and her belly button ring sparkles in the light.
“Hey,” she says sheepishly. “I, uh, made bacon and eggs for you.” She walks shyly to me and tiptoes up to kiss my cheek. “I’ve gotta run but can I see you tonight?”
I frown at this because hell no she can’t see me tonight. Or ever. “There’s no point,” I respond only to see the hurt roll across her features.
Fuck.
“Oh. Okay,” she murmurs and starts gathering her stuff to leave.
“You know if I’d known you have a fiancé I’d never have started this with you. That shit’s not cool.”
“I know.” She turns and looks at me with tears welling in her eyes. “So this is it, huh?”
I nod before saying, “I’ll walk you out.”
As we make our way to the elevator she sniffs and remarks quietly, “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”
I shrug because it’s said and done. At the elevator she presses the down button and turns to me.
“I’ll miss you, Heath.” Tiptoeing up, she wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me long and hard before stepping into the elevator that’s arrived. “Bye.” She gives me a sad smile before the doors close on her.
I stare at the doors for a moment, rubbing the back of my neck. Well, that was interesting. When I turn to go back to my apartment, Laney’s standing in her doorway staring at me, mouth agape and I know she saw everything.
Fuck.
I want to explain things to her but I doubt it’d do any good. She’ll see what she wants to see and what she saw looked bad enough as it is.
And if she has a hangover, she wears it well because she’s looking cuter than ever—hair in a ponytail, wearing short shorts that make her legs look spectacular and a tank top that accentuates her terrific tits. The best part is she’s wearing house shoes that look like huge, hairy feet.
“I was, uh, just getting the, uh, newspaper,” she stutters bending to pick up the paper.
God, she’s fucking beautiful. She has no makeup on but she’s easily the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“’Mornin’,” I say as I start to walk back to my apartment knowing she won’t talk to me again.
“Heath?” she calls.
“Yeah?” I answer, surprised, stopping and turning back.
“I just wanted to apologize for last night. I was pretty drunk. If I’d been sober, there’s no way I would’ve tolerated wanting you to kiss me. Besides, you’re so not my type.” She looks me up and down cavalierly. “Have a great day,” she says sarcastically, shooting me a fuck you smile before going inside and closing the door.
This makes me chuckle. She’s such a liar and she knows it. I walk back to my apartment with a grin because I know when a woman wants me and Laney Kyle wants me.
It’ll be an asshole move on my part, but I can’t help thinking how fun it’ll be to prove it to her.
Tonight I’m in the basement of the apartment building where a couple badass motherfuckers are in the ring getting after it. I’ve been informed there are no weight classes and looking around the room, I see every size of man you can imagine getting warmed up for their fights. I can easily pick out most of the “loanees” who are the more out-of-shape men, only here trying to reduce their loans, and I see several of them looking around nervously hoping they don’t get paired up with any of the bigger guys who I’ve figured have been hired by Kyle to make things more interesting for those who’ve made wagers. He’s probably even instructed a few to throw their fights so he can make more off unsuspecting bettors.
In spite of all the bullshit I’m not intimidated. I might not be formally trained in this shit anymore but I know I can put the hurt on someone and that’s the plan.
I’m also somewhat impressed at how efficiently everything is being run. There’s a re
f who seems to know what he’s doing and things appear to be running smoothly.
There are maybe a hundred, hundred-fifty, bettors standing around the ring watching the current fight. I check out a group of ten who make their way in the back door stopping at a desk to talk to an older man I’ve seen around the gym picking up towels. He hands them a sheet which I assume is tonight’s lineup then the group passes the paper around before wallets come out and money is relinquished to the old guy who writes out tickets.
I start loosening up, rolling my shoulders then going into arm circles. I go through a full dynamic warmup to prepare my body for what’s to come. Sparring with Matt yesterday helped, and Crowley’s sparred with me a few times over the past week and a half since it’d been five years since I fought in college which helped too. Sadly, I found I was in pretty rough shape. Although it was like riding a bike and everything came back to me the minute I stepped into the ring, and even though I’ve worked out five days a week since, this fighting shit is a totally different animal. I’d forgotten how much aerobic endurance it takes to go three rounds. After my first sparring bout with Crowley, I was huffing and puffing like crazy.
But I’ve improved and tonight’s the night to find out whether I’m ready or not.
All I know is I’d better be fucking ready.
Well, I wasn’t as ready as I wanted to be, but I still won.
I fought one of Kyle’s biggest, most experienced fighters, and while his technique might’ve been better, my strength and acumen were what got me the victory. And, fuck, it felt good. The only thing that would’ve made it better is if Laney had been here watching.
Well, shit. Did I just think that? Huh.
Anyway, I didn’t walk away unscathed, though. In the first round I failed to protect myself and got an elbow to my lip which busted it wide open. There’s actually an experienced cutman here who applied a coagulant to stop the bleeding and then I was good to go. I’ve also got some swelling under my left eye where the guy landed a lucky late jab and I know I’ll have a shiner in the morning if I don’t already.